


Field Medicine

by fuzipenguin



Series: Half Your Age +7 [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Battle wounds, Established Relationship, M/M, Older!Twins, Other, Twincest, younger!ratchet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:13:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Experienced soldiers pick up all kinds of tricks.





	Field Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Some young ratchet au prompt ideas - Princess carry/Card games/field medicine/protective/escort

               “C’mon, Lovely, time to get movin’!”

                Although Sideswipe’s voice was cheerful, there was an underlying note of urgency to it that had Ratchet looking up beyond his patient. He spat out a curse when he saw the line of Decepticons steadily advancing. He estimated it would be about five minutes before they arrived at Ratchet’s position.

                No wonder Sideswipe was antsy.

                “Yeah, in a second; I have to fix this first,” Ratchet replied, willing his hands to move faster.

                “Fix it back at base. The ‘cons reach you, they’ll kill him and probably you too,” Sunstreaker said, hopping over the edge of their small foxhole. He landed on Ratchet’s other side, the odor of energon and blaster charges wafting off him.

                “It can’t wait until base. And I can’t move him until this gets done,” Ratchet replied, focused on his work. “Just go without me.”

                “Not happening,” Sideswipe replied, slinging his rifle down from his shoulder and propping it up on the dirt edge of their trench. “Sunny… anything you can do to move things along?”

                “He’s going to bleed out unless these lines get clamped off, so unless you have some experience in this arena, I suggest you frag off,” Ratchet snapped when Sunstreaker leaned in to examine what Ratchet was doing.

                “As it happens, I do,” Sunstreaker said. “Watch your hands.”

                His right arm shot out in front of Ratchet’s chest and shoved him backwards just as his opposite hand brought his gun up and aimed it pointblank at the wounded Autobot’s shoulder. He fired, the sound of the weapon briefly deafening Ratchet’s audials.

                “NOO!” Ratchet screeched, his fingers scrabbling at Sunstreaker’s arm. “How could you?!”

                “Oh, shut it,” Sunstreaker said dismissively. He leaned over the (fortunately sedated) mech’s frame and picked up the now completely detached arm. “Bleeding’s stopped. Let’s go.”

                “The bleeding’s stopped because you fried his lines!” Ratchet protested, staring in dismay at the mess of the mech’s shoulder.

                “I repeat… the bleeding’s stopped. Transform so we can shove him in your hold,” Sunstreaker instructed, transforming his gun away. He started gathering up the other Autobot in his arms, gaze flicking up at Ratchet imperiously.

                “You are ridiculous!” Ratchet shouted, throwing his hands up in the air before transforming. There wasn’t anything else to do but as Sunstreaker suggested. As crude as it may have been, Sunstreaker’s shot _had_ stopped the hemorrhaging.

                “But effective!” Sideswipe chirped, helping his brother load the wounded soldier in Ratchet’s transport bay. “Now get that pretty aft of yours in gear!”

 

~ End


End file.
